


Chai Blend

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Humor, Other, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things mix together better than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chai Blend

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete and utter Series One-based silliness. There are attempts at humor. There is a cranky, underfed, put-upon Watson. And there is no plot to speak of. If this doesn't sound like your cuppa, move along, nothing to see here...

They’d been on the go for hours, trying to trace the movements of mysterious girl in the green jacket. They might have gone on for hours more, but as careless of time and routine as he might be, Sherlock Holmes was observant above all. When John started to limp a bit, his face slightly grey, Sherlock quickly deduced the cause. Neither of them had eaten since well before dawn, and it was starting to affect the other man. It was time to grab a quick nosh, or face the consequences of the doctor’s temper when he was low on blood sugar.

Fortunately this was London. There were plenty of options. “Indian all right?” he asked.

“What?” The non sequitur caught John off-guard. Sherlock had hardly stopped talking about the latest developments in the case since Lestrade’s call. He’d started…well, not tuning him out exactly, but his friend’s words had faded into a bit of a blur in the back of his mind as he tried to ignore the increasing discomfort in his shoulder, and even more annoyingly, the vague phantom pain in his leg. It had mostly vanished after that one chase, but every so often it tried to come back.

Sherlock gave him a slantwise look. It wasn’t like John to miss a cue. He must be more tired than Sherlock had realized. “Or would you prefer kebab? That’s a little further away, but…”

John’s stomach rumbled as he finally realized what Sherlock was on about this time – lunch. It surprised him; the man hardly seemed to eat when on a case, but he certainly wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was starving. “No, Indian’s fine. A curry would be just about perfect, actually.” The day had turned both damp and chilly.

“Splendid. Amil’s is about a block away.” Without another word, Sherlock whirled and strode off rapidly, his dark coat flaring behind him. John shrugged and quickened his own pace.

Within a few minutes they were tucked inside a much fancier place than John had any idea of, apparently the only customers. In fact John was fairly certain that the place wasn’t actually open for lunch, but that consideration didn’t seem to occur to Sherlock, or their exuberant host. The short, dapper man exchanged rapid words with Sherlock in some foreign language and whisked them immediately to a corner table before vanishing back into the kitchen, assuring them in perfect English that food was on its way.

He didn’t even ask what they wanted.

“Another friend of yours?” John asked as Sherlock pulled out his mobile from his coat and started texting. No, not his – John’s. He’d pinched it again. After a month of this, John didn’t even bother rolling his eyes.

Amil sounded like he was doing quite well. It always gratified Sherlock when his clients prospered. “A former client,” he answered John as he skimmed through the results of a data search.

“Of course. Is there any part of London where you don’t have a former client?”

“Not many. I’d think you’d have noticed that by now.” Sherlock hoped Amil would bring out food soon. John sounded slightly sarcastic, never a good sign.

He’d hardly finished the thought when Amil reappeared carrying a tray with two water glasses, two mugs, and a steaming pot of chai. John sat up straighter, and even Sherlock looked up from John’s phone, his face brightening. Amil deftly served them, pouring out with a flourish, before hurrying away.

John watched, somewhat bemused, as Sherlock put John’s phone back into his pocket and reached eagerly for one of the two mugs. He’d rarely seen Sherlock show enthusiasm for food or drink unless it involved a fortune or other puzzle. He reached for his own mug and blew on the surface, letting the steam dissipate. Sherlock wasn’t so wary; he took a long sip despite the heat of the liquid. A faint smile flitted across his face.

“Good?” John asked, rather unnecessarily.

“Best chai in London,” Sherlock agreed, savoring the taste on his tongue, his mind analyzing the different flavors and sensations. “And it’s never the same twice. Today he’s added a little more cardamom, and there’s ginger, and…”

John grinned and took a taste of his own cup. It figured; the chai was a puzzle for his friend after all. For his part, John was just glad of its steaming warmth and cozy, spicy taste. His stomach rumbled again, louder this time, and he hastily took a second sip, hoping the liquid would shut it up until food arrived.

Amil appeared again, this time carrying a single lit candle. He swiftly deposited it on the table between John and Sherlock and beamed at them before hastening away.

John groaned and brought a hand to his forehead. He ought to be used to this by now, he supposed, but it still got him every time.

“John?” Sherlock paused, holding his cup in one hand as he took in his friend’s pained expression. “Do you have a headache?”

“No,” John snapped. He immediately regretted it as his friend’s eyes widened. There was no point in taking out his frustration on Sherlock. Then again… “No, I was just trying to figure something out. In fact, maybe you can explain it.”

“Explain what?”

John took a deep breath. Was he really certan that he wanted to know for sure? Perhaps not, but it wouldn’t stop bugging him, hadn’t since the first time Sherlock had danced around the issue, so he might as well ask. “Why is it that every time we eat out somewhere, we always wind up in the most romantic booth in the place? Why do your former clients always assume that we’re here on a date, or that I’m your boyfriend?”

“Ah.” Sherlock had wondered when this would come up again. He took a quick drink of his chai, considering John’s cranky, underfed state while deliberating his answer. “There are a number of possible theories that would fit the data, of course.”

John sighed and frowned. It sounded like Sherlock was going to prevaricate again. The man could be positively maddening. John was ninety percent sure his flatmate was gay, so why couldn’t Sherlock just say so? Apparently this was one of those areas where Sherlock either was, or would pretend to be, utterly clueless. “Such as?” he asked anyway, just to keep the conversation going. He took another drink of his chai, not expecting much in the way of immediate answers.

Sherlock shrugged and wished Amil would hurry up with the appetizers. “Well, of the theories that come to mind, the most obvious answer is that people can’t help but notice how hot we are together and want to nudge us along. You know how everyone loves a good bromance.”

That was the day Sherlock Holmes learned NOT to attempt humor as a diversion while sitting across from a hungry man who had just taken in a large mouthful of chai. He wasn’t sure his favorite coat would ever come clean. It still smelled like cinnamon and spices, even after two trips to the cleaners.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted February 6, 2011


End file.
